


If We Keep On Coming Back

by riots



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Competition, Face-Fucking, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Makeup, POV Alternating, Panties, Youtube Celebs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol's little hobby of blowing things up on camera could win him some nice recognition, but he's got some competition, and he'll be damned if he loses to a guy who spends ten minutes applying lip gloss and winking at the camera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If We Keep On Coming Back

**Author's Note:**

> [these](http://www.youtube.com/user/theslowmoguys/videos) are the slow mo guys. it's not necessary that you're familiar with the videos to read the fic, but if you like watching things blow up in slow motion then i highly recommend them!!

**[ Mentos and Coke at 1500 and 2500 fps - The Slow Mo Guys ]**

It starts, as all their videos do, with a really terrible idea on Chanyeol’s part, and Jongdae’s immediate, enthusiastic approval. “Mentos and Coke,” Jongdae says, one hand on his chin like he’s considering some deep, philosophical concept. “Yeah. Oh yeah. Let’s do this.”

It’s not even close to the worst idea they’ve had yet, really. That probably has to go to the time when they did some amateur flame-throwing and Jongdae had kicked a tray of lit gasoline into the air. In retrospect, they’re probably lucky that he escaped with no burns and they only singed the grass, like, a little bit. “Do you ever wonder if we’re wasting our lives?” Chanyeol asks as they wander the aisles. He’s only halfway serious. It’s not like this is their full-time job, Chanyeol is most of the way towards a degree in literature and Jongdae’s acing his courses in engineering. Still, they probably spend a weird amount of time planning these things out and then seeing them through.

Jongdae turns to Chanyeol and starts stacking his arms full of two litre bottles of Coke. “No,” he replies distractedly, carefully placing another one on top. Chanyeol has long arms but he’s pretty sure that if Jongdae tries to give him any more, it’s gonna end in a sticky mess, and they don’t even have their cameras with them. It’s only fun when they get it on camera. “We’re furthering science. Obviously.”

Chanyeol isn’t really sure what science has got to do with making idiots of themselves on camera the way they do on a semi-weekly basis, but okay. “I like the sound of that,” he says, trailing after Jongdae through the supermarket. “It makes it sound like I didn’t spend last Thursday breaking mugs on the driveway because it looked cool.”

“We’re scientists,” Jongdae declares. There’s something a bit unfair about how Chanyeol’s got all the Coke bottles and Jongdae’s the one with a handful of Mentos, but Chanyeol knows better than to argue. Jongdae is kind of an evil genius with revenge. “No, we’re _artists_.”

The woman who checks them out levels them both with an even, unimpressed look that says she knows just what they’re doing, and they’re too old for this nonsense. She’s probably got kids. Chanyeol grins. “We’re artists,” he tells her. She clicks her tongue and bags their Coke. “How are we artists?”

“We’re bringing joy to people’s lives,” Jongdae says. At least he pays, but Chanyeol is still the one loaded down with bags to bring home. “We make people _think_.”

Chanyeol raises his eyebrows. “About how neat water droplets look in slow motion?”

“Exactly.” Chanyeol has enough of being the packhorse, so when Jongdae pats his elbow he shoves one of the bags at him. Jongdae yelps and scrambles to catch it before it hits the ground and they have to head out all over again for supplies. “Hey!”

That’s a little better. “Alright,” Chanyeol says. He pulls one of the packages of Mentos out of his bag and pops one in his mouth. “Let’s go make art.”

They end up having to recruit Joonmyun to give them a hand. The first test goes really well and Chanyeol gets a faceful of sticky foam that he’s still blinking out of his eyelashes when Jongdae lets out a whoop and goes for the second one. Chanyeol laughs as this time, Jongdae takes a flying leap over the bottle. He actually manages a neat tuck and roll, although he gets a mouthful of grass and ends up soaked from his nipples to his bellybutton. That one will make a good video. Chanyeol’s laughing so hard that he almost forgets to turn off the camera. “Don’t get anything on that,” Jongdae calls. “Lu Han will kill you if you ruin his camera.”

“Just me?” Chanyeol frowns. “ _I_ was the one who got him to lend it in the first place, you know.” It’s not like expensive high-speed cameras are just laying around, but luckily, Chanyeol had a friend in the film department. After a whole lot of persuasion (and a solemn promise to hand over his soul and his testicles should anything bad happen to it), Lu Han had let them borrow the camera a couple of times a month to make their videos.

“Right,” Jongdae says. He tugs at his shorts, plastered to his crotch in a way that kind of makes both of them uncomfortable. “Exactly.”

Chanyeol squints at him, but then he turns his attention towards the leftover Coke bottles. The daylight is fading and they’ve only got the camera for a few more hours. “Okay,” he says. “That was pretty good, but I think we can do better.”

Jongdae plants his hands on his hips, which is kind of funny when he’s drenched from the waist down. “We’re going to need an extra pair of hands.” He rubs his palms across his chest to try to get some of the sticky off.

Joonmyun has never particularly approved of what they do, but that doesn’t mean he’s immune to Chanyeol’s puppydog face. “So what do I have to do?” he asks. He looks apprehensive, arms crossed over his skinny chest, shivering a little in the wind. “I’m not going to get hurt or anything, right?”

“Hyung,” Jongdae sighs. He plants one damp hand on Joonmyun’s shoulder. “Just drop in the Mentos. We’re the ones that are going to make idiots of ourselves.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Joonmyun says, visibly relaxing. Chanyeol snorts.

They do, however, force him to do an intro with them. Joonmyun puts on his best ‘meeting the parents’ smile and greets their fans, and Chanyeol is pretty sure that his heinous sweater is going to turn out great on camera. Their first shot would’ve been fine, but Chanyeol glances over at Jongdae and then they both grin and sandwich Joonmyun between their bodies. Chanyeol can see Joonmyun’s eyes widen in disgust when he feels how sticky they still are. Perfect.

Luckily, as uncoordinated as Joonmyun is, he still manages to drop the Mentos into the Coke bottle without knocking it over. The light is fading and they’ve only got the one shot, but in the end, it turns out perfectly. Jongdae jumps first, tumbling too fast and not only bumping his own head against the ground but catching Chanyeol in the jaw with his heel. Chanyeol squawks and jerks, his face going through the explosion of Coke as his long limbs go wild, and he ends up sprawling on his front in the grass. “That’s a winner!” Jongdae yells, and Chanyeol scrambles up, laughing, and flicks off the camera.

Joonmyun has a hand pressed to his forehead, shaking his head. “You two have too much time on your hands,” he tells them, but he’s laughing hard enough that Chanyeol _knows_ this one’s going to look beautiful in slow motion.

“Gold,” Jongdae crows from where he’s still lying on the ground, one hand cupping his bruised skull. “That one was so good. We’re going to get so many hits.”

Joonmyun rubs his eyes. “I’m very happy for you,” he says. He pats Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Put some ice on that, alright? Looks pretty bad.”

Right. His jaw. Chanyeol gingerly touches his fingertips to where Jongdae’s heel had caught him and - “ _Ow_ , fuck, _thanks_ Jongdae.”

“You’re welcome,” Jongdae calls. He looks pretty serene for someone who’s soaked in Coke and has eaten grass twice in the space of about an hour.

Chanyeol recovers their backup camera, the cheap one, and points it in Joonmyun’s direction. “What do you think, hyung?” he asks. “Pretty good, right?”

Joonmyun gives the camera a deeply insincere smile. “Please don’t ask me to help you again,” he says. Chanyeol films him walking away and then turns back to Jongdae, who offers their viewers an exaggerated pout.

“Well, I thought it was pretty great,” Chanyeol says. He switches the camera off and Jongdae slowly pushes himself up. Jongdae’s grandmother’s backyard is strewn with half empty Coke bottles and Mentos wrappers and Jongdae’s got grass stains on his shoulders and his shorts are pretty much ruined. “This was a pretty successful shoot.”

“I’m gonna get on editing that one like, tonight,” Jongdae says. Chanyeol pulls at his labcoat, plastered to his front. “Oh, that one was perfect.”

“Good luck,” Chanyeol tells him. He glances around at the mess. They really should tidy up. Jongdae’s grandmother is a really nice old lady, and she lets them blow things up in her backyard, so they probably should be respectful.

Lucky for him, however, he’s got plans. “Uh,” Kris sticks his big head cautiously around the back gate, peering in at them. “Are you all done with your like, mad science experiments? ‘Cause we’re late for basketball.”

Perfect timing. Chanyeol sheds his labcoat and bolts towards him. “All done,” he says cheerfully, and he shoves at Kris, pushing him through the gate before Jongdae can get a word out. “Let’s go.”

“Hey!” Jongdae shouts. “Chanyeol, you son of a bitch.” Chanyeol just grins, because by then, he’s halfway up the drive to Kris’ car. That’s what Jongdae gets for making Chanyeol do all the prep work. Just desserts.

He waves goodbye to Mrs. Kim and then swings into Kris’ car. “Watch it,” Kris grumps. He eyes the way that Chanyeol’s shirt sticks to the nice upholstery of his seats. “Couldn’t you have changed or something first?”

Seems like a waste to Chanyeol. Plus, he likes seeing Kris squirm when he’s making a mess of his nice, clean car. “I’m just gonna get sweaty anyway,” he says with a shrug.

Kris sighs, but he doesn’t reply, and Chanyeol grins at him. He’s fiddling with Kris’ radio when Kris speaks again. “I can’t believe you’re still doing those,” he says. “You know my cousin has his own youtube channel?” He slaps Chanyeol’s hands away from the console and wipes his sticky fingerprints off the screen. “Makeup tutorials, and like, fashion and stuff.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “Are you kidding me?” he laughs. He’s never seen the point of those videos, and even less so from a guy. “Does he teach you how to do your eyeliner and stuff?” he shakes his head.

“Actually, they’re pretty popular,” Kris tells him. He raises an eyebrow. “I think he gets more views than you guys do.”

“What!” Chanyeol scoffs. “Impossible. No one even watches that stuff. Makeup. Who cares?”

Kris grins at him. “A couple million people,” he says, and Chanyeol seethes.

How does some guy with a webcam and a mascara wand have more views than they do? Bullshit. “Whatever,” Chanyeol says, and he waves a hand. “Who cares. Let’s go play some basketball.”

The way that Kris eyes him is knowing and fond, and Chanyeol huffs, rubbing his sticky shoulders against Kris’ car seat. “Stop that,” Kris says, nudging Chanyeol with the back of one big hand. “I just had this cleaned.”

“Oops,” Chanyeol says blithely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[ Night Out Makeup Tutorial ]**

It’s so quiet in the room that Zitao can hear the soft click of his clock and the creak of his bed when he shifts. He likes it best when it’s silent when he works, it makes it easier to concentrate that way. When he edits the video, he always overlays sound over it anyway, and this means he needs less takes. Always a good thing when you have your best friend splayed out on the couch on his belly, flicking through a fashion magazine and yawning loudly and pointedly so that you don’t forget that he’s there. Zitao ignores Baekhyun, as he always does, focusing instead on the task at hand.

This look is nothing fancy, because Zitao actually is going out tonight, and he wants to look sexy, not drag queen sparkly. He’s already evened out his skin and now he works quickly at contouring. With each step, he’s careful to show the camera the product in his hands and the brush that he’s using. After all, without that, what’s the point? Baekhyun clears his throat as Zitao reaches for his eyeliner, and Zitao doesn’t hesitate to throw the lid at him, hard and fast. That’s the beauty of post-production, you see. You can edit all of that out.

A quick coat of lip gloss and Zitao brushes his fingertip deftly against the corner of his eye one last time, and then he straightens. “That’s it. I’m all done.” He carefully tips his head a few times, making sure the camera has a clear view of his eyes and what he’s been working on for the past ten minutes. The mirror he has set up next to him shows him that yes, his makeup is perfect, yet again. He smiles broadly. Baekhyun huffs at him from the couch, and then he comes and throws himself down on the end of Zitao’s bed next to him, resting his chin on Zitao’s shoulder. He never can resist a chance to get in one of Zitao’s videos. “And now that I’m ready, Baekhyun and I -” Baekhyun bats his eyelashes and waves at the camera. “- are going to see what kind of trouble we can get up to tonight.” He smoothes a hand down his shirt front and throws a wink for his viewers. “Wish us luck.”

He raises a hand to turn off recording with his remote and Baekhyun sighs, flopping backwards. “Are you done now?” he asks. He’s been here since this afternoon and he’s only gotten increasingly restless while Zitao set up his camera and ran through multiple takes for this week’s video. It wasn’t a long one. Even when Zitao is looking to draw eyes, it’s not like he paints peacock feathers on his face. Still, you’d think it’d been an eternity from the way that Baekhyun is moaning about it. “Can we leave?”

“Whiny, hyung,” Zitao sniffs, and he yelps when Baekhyun stretches out a leg to kick him. He thinks he’s been pretty generous, letting Baekhyun crash at his place while his roommate’s girlfriend visits. He’s practically a saint. “Get off my bed. I have to clean up.”

Editing will have to wait until tomorrow. Right now, he has to tidy up his supplies and put things away. He could ask Baekhyun to help, but he’s tried that before. Baekhyun will immediately agree, all smiles, but what’s most likely to happen is Baekhyun will pick up one brush and pretend like he doesn’t know where it goes, and then sit back down and beam at Zitao like he’s the most helpful person in the world.

“I’m bored,” Baekhyun announces. “And I told Sehun we were going to meet him in half an hour. Are you going to make a liar out of me, Zitao?” He props himself up on his elbows and watches Zitao toss his brushes into his bag, sweeping his beauty products off his desk. “Come _on_.”

Zitao swats at Baekhyun’s head on his way to the bathroom. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he replies. It’s not like he has to do much anyway. He already looks perfect, right?

When he comes out again, he finds Baekhyun fucking around on his computer, watching something. He hears manic laughter, then something exploding, followed by “Shit, shit, shit, Chanyeol, get it!” Zitao wrinkles his nose. “What is that?” he asks.

“I used to be friends with this guy in high school,” Baekhyun says. He gestures at the screen, at a tall, gawky looking guy with the remnants of a condom stretched over his head. His ears stick out underneath the ring of rubber still stuck around his forehead, and one eye scrunches up more than the other when he laughs. He looks ridiculous. “I guess he and his buddy got internet famous.”

“Doing _that_?” Zitao asks. He wrinkles his nose. “What are they, thirteen?”

“Perpetually,” Baekhyun agrees. He reaches out and closes the laptop with a click. “Are you ready now? Can we go?” He stands and rifles through Zitao’s closet, ignoring his protests and coming out with a jacket. It’s too big for him, but Baekhyun doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Zitao pauses to fix his hair one last time in the mirror. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” He can feel his phone already vibrating in his pocket. Sehun’s never had any patience at all.

“Gonna get _laid_ ,” Baekhyun crows, arms up in the air as Zitao pushes him through the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[ Paintballs against BARE SKIN in Slow Motion - The Slow Mo Guys ]**

Chanyeol doesn’t need a second thought to know that this is going to suck. He exhales in a burst, shaking his hands and dancing from foot to foot. It doesn’t help that Jongdae is standing in point blank range, hefting the paintball gun and leveling it at him, an altogether too pleased grin on his face. “Ready?” Jongdae asks.

“No,” Chanyeol replies miserably, but he’s already pulling his labcoat up and out of the way. Of course he gets to go first. “Can’t you like, back away a bit?”

Jongdae lowers the gun long enough to roll his eyes. “Pussy,” he calls. “The longer you put this off, the more I’m gonna shoot you.” He shakes the gun a little, enough that Chanyeol can hear the rattle of the paintball casings in the chamber. Chanyeol hates Jongdae, so much.

This one’s got to be good, though. They’d found out last week that they had, miraculously enough, been nominated for this Youtube competition. It’s the first time they’ve received any kind of real recognition for the videos they make, and it feels kind of important. What if they get a real life award for setting things on fire and filming it in slow motion? That would be _awesome_. So now they’re trying to prove themselves worthy of that nomination. Chanyeol figures that paintballs to the ass oughta do it.

Thing is, the voting is done by location, which meant that they’re up against Kris’ cousin, too. Somehow, a kid who puts on lip gloss and pouts for the camera for ten minutes is getting more attention than them. Chanyeol is outraged. There is no _way_ that guy is gonna beat them. He’s going to make sure of it.

And if he has to take one for the team, so be it. “Do it for the kids,” Jongdae says cheerfully. He points the paintball gun at Chanyeol’s dick and Chanyeol sighs.

He turns around and peers forlornly at their secondary camera. “For the kids,” he says, and then he spins and yanks down his pants. He hopes his mom doesn’t watch this one. He knows Yura probably will. He estimates he’ll get exactly five minutes after this is posted until she calls him and laughs her face off.

It’d be too much to ask for a warning. Chanyeol just braces himself, bent over, and he’s turning around to ask Jongdae if he’s going to shoot yet or what when he hears the click of the gun and then _searing pain_. “Fuck!” he yelps, straightening abruptly and clapping a hand over his buttcheek. All he hears is Jongdae’s laughter and then he’s hit another three times in rapid succession. “Jongdae, you shithead!” It takes a second after impact for the burning pain to set in, and then Chanyeol’s entire ass is just on fire. “I think I’m bleeding,” he yells. He hisses and fans his injury, jumping up and down. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Jongdae manages to flick off the high-speed camera before he drops to his knees, cackling. “I have perfect aim,” he says, smug.

“I hate you,” Chanyeol wails. He’s going to scar. He’s going to have scars on his beautiful ass. This was the _worst_ idea. “You are the worst. This friendship is over.”

“Worth it,” Jongdae tells him. “So worth it. Worth it times a million.”

It takes three tries for Chanyeol to pull his pants up over his throbbing war wounds. It’s time for retaliation. He lunges at Jongdae and yanks the paintball gun out of his hands. “Your turn,” he says. He pokes Jongdae in the gut with the gun barrel and savours the squawk he lets out. “Let’s see that ass jiggle.”

“You don’t even _have_ an ass,” Jongdae says, knocking the barrel away. “Besides, if you wanted to get me naked, you have to ask nicer than that.” He walks out to where they’ve set their mark and strikes a pose.

Chanyeol narrows his eyes. He does so have an ass. It’s just...delicate. “Jongdae-yah,” he says sweetly. “Please take off your pants for the camera.”

Jongdae turns and Chanyeol grins. This part is a lot more fun for him. He turns on the high-speed camera and shoots Jongdae once, giving plenty of time to catch the impact. He waits until he hears Jongdae yell, then he squeezes off another five shots. He does his best to spread them out, getting maximum buttcheek coverage. He wants Jongdae to hate him every time he sits down for the next week.

Sometimes he loves doing these videos.

He catches Jongdae in a headlock before he can yank up his pants and he drags him over to their secondary camera for an outro. “I hope you all enjoyed that,” Jongdae snarls. He’s trying to push Chanyeol’s arm away with one hand and pull his pants up with the other, but Chanyeol pins his arms to his sides so he can’t do anything. That size difference comes in handy sometimes.

“I know I did,” Chanyeol says cheerfully. He grins widely at the camera lens. “And to all of you out there, we love you, we adore you, and thank you in advance for voting for us, and not, oh, I don’t know. Some guy with too much mascara on.” Jongdae, helpfully, coughs, and it sounds suspiciously like ‘Huang Zitao’. “We are so much more worthy, after all.”

They plug a friend’s channel and the Youtube competition site, and then they sign out. Jongdae shoves Chanyeol away and struggles back into his pants. “I wonder if he ever watches these things?” he muses.

Chanyeol smiles then, viciously. “I hope so,” he says.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 **@abstyle:** wow, looks like someone can’t handle a little competition! sorry you had to resort to dirty tactics to get some votes #lame

 **@slowmochanyeol:** keep it coming with the votes, guys!! let’s prove to the world that you need more than some glitter and lip gloss to win this thing

 **@abstyle:** kisses to everyone who votes for me!! and definitely no kisses for anyone who votes for the idiots who blow stuff up for a living

 **@abstyle:** slow mo =/= art, douchebags

 **@slowmochanyeol:** it really sucks that some people can be so jealous that we can make more entertaining videos in 4sec than some can manage with 30min

 **@abstyle:** i have never met a man who was proud of performing in four seconds before

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[ Summer Style! ]**

It’s a lot easier to get Baekhyun on board with his videos when Zitao is asking him to stand in front of the camera instead of behind it. Normally, Zitao gets his cousin to model for him, but he’d apparently had to study, or play basketball, or something else dull. He likes to work with Kris because even though he’s possibly the lamest person Zitao has ever met, he’s also tall and broad and wears clothes really nicely. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he’s Zitao’s cousin, and as such, he’s endlessly patient when Zitao dresses him up and sets the camera on him. He’s like a life-size Ken doll with a cro magnon chin. Thank God for convenient camera angles.

Today, though, Zitao has Baekhyun. He’s not nearly so tall but he does have these nice dips and a fantastic ass, so Zitao supposes it’ll do. The floral jumpsuit he’s got on washes him out some, but Baekhyun seems determined to ignore this. He’s far less dismissive of Zitao’s habits when it’s him in front of the camera. Zitao has no problem at getting Baekhyun to pose and spin obligingly for his camera. “I didn’t like that one,” Baekhyun says abruptly, turning back to face Zitao. “Do it again, and this time, take your time! Appreciate all that you have going on in front of you.”

This is the third outfit that Baekhyun has modelled for Zitao today, and they’ve been at this for nearly two hours, between Baekhyun’s interminably long costume changes and ridiculous demands on his camera work. Zitao is very, very tired. “I’m in charge here,” Zitao frowns, dropping the camera.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes and gestures for Zitao to raise it again. “And I am doing you an enormous favour,” he says. “You’re going for votes, you might as well do it right.”

Zitao already knows he’s going to lose most of an evening sifting through all of this footage. “Yes, hyung,” he says sulkily. He picks up the camera again and twirls a finger, indicating Baekhyun should spin. It’s not actually filming, but he’s pretty certain that Baekhyun doesn’t need to know that. It’s always easier to indulge Baekhyun than try to tell him no. He’s very persistent.

Still, it’s not like Zitao really has time for this right now. Not when he has a contest to win against the world’s most obnoxious man-child. Zitao is a fairly competitive person, but this Chanyeol, with his snide little jabs and his stupid face and his explosions have just made Zitao certain that he _will_ win. How dare he imply that getting _shot in the ass_ on camera is somehow more worthy of attention and awards than what Zitao does? He spends hours on his videos, he is meticulous with his demonstrations and his tips, and he does his best to reply to all of his fans. Zitao takes his position as guru _very_ seriously.

And then here are these jackasses, lighting themselves on fire and then making _fun_ of him for what he does. Infuriating. And Zitao is not going to let them get the last word. No way.

“Uh, hello?” Baekhyun waves a hand at him, a parody of a pout on his face. “We’re not done here.”

“Yes,” Zitao says firmly. “We are.” He carefully sets the camera back on the stand and turns it towards himself. Baekhyun makes a little grumpy noise and tugs at the cuffs of his shorts, huffing.”Now be quiet. I need to film my outro.”

It takes him a few minutes to settle himself on his chair and get the best angle and lighting, but Zitao has had a lot of practice by now. “Alright, guys, that’s it for today,” Zitao says. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Baekhyun examining himself in the mirror. “I know you’re getting sick of me saying this by now, but I would absolutely adore you all if you would vote for me in the competition!” He smiles his sweetest smile. “I know I have some competition, but luckily, it’s not those two idiots who blow things up. It’s a shame they’re so dumb,” he sighs. “The tall one might even be cute, if I hadn’t seen him put a condom over his head.” He shakes his head in feigned pity. “But I’m sure _my_ followers would never have the poor choice to vote for those douchebags. You all have such great taste, after all.”

When he stops recording, Baekhyun is watching him with one hand pressed over his heart. “Shots fired,” he says, sounding admiring. “That was so cold, I’m getting chills. Do my hands feel cold?” He holds them out for Zitao to take, and Zitao ignores it.

“Hyung, please,” he sighs, but he can’t help the pleased little way his lips turn up. Subtlety is overrated, Zitao has decided, especially after not only that Slow Mo Guys video where they had called him out by name, but that scuffle on twitter. They are more than due for a little retaliation. “It was pretty good, wasn’t it?”

Baekhyun grins at him. “Definitely,” he says. “I like seeing Chanyeol get a little taste of that.” He sits down on Zitao’s bed, folding his legs up underneath himself. “Although - cute?” He tips his head. “I mean, in the right light, maybe, but his face does this _really_ unfortunate thing when he’s laughing, trust me, not attractive.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Zitao scowls. “Shut up.”

“Uh huh,” Baekhyun says, but he has that crafty look in his eye, the one that he gets when he’s got something delightful and juicy on someone and he’s just waiting for the perfect, most humiliating moment to use it. “Sure.”

Zitao pushes out his bottom lip. “Get out of my clothes,” he says. “We’re done here.” He glances at the camera. If he spends the night on this, he should have it ready for upload by tomorrow, right on schedule. Chanyeol better watch it, that was for sure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[ Expert Make-Up Advice From Your Friendly Neighbourhood Slow Mo Guys ]**

The best part about doing these videos with Jongdae is that he’s almost always game. No matter what Chanyeol suggests (a new idea for a video, or a stupid amount of shots on a Monday afternoon), Jongdae’s pretty up for giving anything a try. Still, this one had taken a bit of convincing. They’ve made it through the rankings, and they’re in the top eight of their region for the Youtube competition, and Jongdae thinks that they need to step it up a notch to make it to the top four.

“You promised,” Jongdae says, narrowing his eyes at Chanyeol as he’s settling into his lawn chair in front of the camera. “If this is dumb, we’re refilming. And we’re setting something on fire.”

Chanyeol grins at him and holds out his pinky finger. Jongdae raises his eyebrows but after a long moment, he reluctantly hooks it with his own pinky. “It’ll be really funny,” Chanyeol says. “I _promise_.” He holds out a tube of lipstick. “Now let’s do this.”

He’d had to ask Yura for help on this one. Other than one memorable party at Baekhyun’s house in high school (that one had also involved skirts), Chanyeol hasn’t really had a ton of experience with make-up, so he’d called his sister as soon as the idea hit him. “It’s not rocket science, Chanyeol,” she’d said. “I can’t believe you called me to ask me for tips on what brands of make-up to _blow up_.”

As usual, she’s missing the point. “It’s not about that,” Chanyeol had said. “I’m trying - it has to be like, the really good stuff.” Otherwise, how will Zitao know how much effort he put into pissing him off? “So, what’s expensive?”

He could hear her snort. “Why is this so important, hmm?” The tone of her voice had made it clear that she already had a fairly good idea. Big sisters are the worst.

“Noona,” Chanyeol had whined. “Can’t you just be helpful?” Yura had just laughed.

Eventually, however, she’d given him some suggestions, and okay, so that was most of his beer money for the month, but he’s pretty sure this is worth it. “Alright,” Jongdae says, and he squares himself in front of the camera. “Let’s do this.”

First, Jongdae holds out the tube of lipstick, so that the viewers can clearly see the brand name, and then he uncaps it. “Time to get pretty,” he says grimly.

They’ve got the camera set to one of their highest frame rates, and Chanyeol _knows_ it’ll make this all even more epic. It’s a violently red shade, and Jongdae starts out like anyone would, carefully spreading it across his bottom lip before continuing on to the top. The whole time, he stares down the camera like it killed his mother. Once he’s finished his top lip, his hand just keeps going. He draws a bright red sweep of lipstick across his chin and then spiralling up and out over the tip of his nose. The second time around, he spreads it even wider, going underneath his chin and then up and over his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Once he’s satisfied, Jongdae bares his teeth, like some kind of bizarre crown.

It takes all of Chanyeol’s will not to drop to his knees laughing before he presses stop on the camera. The video is the priority, of course. “How do I look?” Jongdae asks. He frames his face with his hands under his chin and bats his eyelashes in a kind of terrifying parody of aegyo. “Am I pretty?”

Chanyeol has never been so glad that they always set up multiple cameras to catch everything the high-speed camera doesn’t. He’s practically doubled over, slapping his knee. “The prettiest,” he wheezes.

Jongdae scrambles over to his grandmother’s car to get a look at his face. “Holy shit,” he says, throwing back his head and laughing. His face has always been angular and sharp and with the lipstick, he looks a little bit demonic. “I am gonna get _all_ the ladies.”

“Yes you are,” Chanyeol agrees solemnly.

But it wouldn’t be a Slow Mo guys video without some explosions, right? When Jongdae headed inside to clean the mess off his face, Chanyeol set up the next part. Yura had told him that this was called a palette, and it was a pricey one. Maybe not professional grade, but probably something a make-up guru would use, so, you know, perfect.

It’s not really easy to figure out where to stick a few bangers to blow the thing up, so in the end, Chanyeol just sticks a whole bunch of them underneath the thing and hopes it’ll look cool. He’s only got one more, so it’d better turn out okay.

He’s adjusting the angle of their high-speed camera when he hears the door open again. “You ready?” he asks, straightening, and he snorts when he sees Jongdae. He looks grumpy, and for good reason - his face is still stained with red, the phantom leftovers of the lipstick. “Oh, wow.”

“This had better be spectacular,” Jongdae grumps, wiping at his face. He glares at Chanyeol, like it’s _his_ fault. How was Chanyeol supposed to know that that stuff doesn’t come off? He doesn’t know anything.

“Oh, it will be,” Chanyeol promises, because he has faith, and because he can’t quit thinking about the look on Zitao’s face when he sees this one. It’s going to be so good.

Jongdae takes up his station beside the camera and Chanyeol pulls on a pair of safety glasses and steps up behind the makeshift table they have set up in the middle of the yard, lighter in hand. “Alright,” Jongdae calls, and Chanyeol leans down to light the fireworks. He whoops when they go up, and he steps back a little. He needs to be in the shot but like, he’s not an idiot. Most of the time, anyway.

It’s even better than Chanyeol had hoped. The first firework launches the palette into the air, knocking the little pans up into the air. The powdered product goes everywhere, setting off in bright arcs with each new explosion. Eventually, one sends the palette spinning back towards him and Chanyeol squawks, throwing up his arms and ducking.

When he peeks out again, his labcoat is covered in bright pigments and the palette is a mess of shattered plastic and scattered over the lawn. “You alright, you big pussy?” Jongdae calls.

Chanyeol could take offense, but Jongdae still looks like a kindergartener scribbled on his face, so it takes some of the sting out of it. “That was a good one, wasn’t it?” Jongdae flashes him a thumbs up and Chanyeol grins.

The outro, though, that’s key. Zitao hadn’t pulled any punches with his video, and it’s not like they will either. He just doesn’t need any words to do it. When Jongdae raises the little camera, Chanyeol deliberately dusts himself down, spreading his hands down his front and then straightening the lapels of his jacket, and then he blows an exaggerated kiss for the viewers. “Your move,” he says.

Jongdae shakes his head as he presses stop. “You are getting way too into this,” he says.

“Does he think I’m cute now?” Chanyeol wonders, and Jongdae rolls his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[ Top Four - Meet-up! ]**

It feels a little bit surreal, but Zitao is here now, and the conference is enormous. After the top four was announced, Zitao got an email informing him that he was invited to the final competition. It’s a two day affair, with a last round of eliminations at the end of the first before the true finalists. It’s actually a lot of fun. They have activities all over the place, and no one even bats an eye at how Zitao has Kris trailing him everywhere with a camera, because pretty much everyone else is doing the same. These are his people.

Early in the day, Zitao had had the chance to meet one of the other finalists in his area, a singer named Kyungsoo. He was very small, almost delicate, but the complete, icy disdain in his expression when Kris called him cute instantly made Zitao warm to him.

“This is fun,” Kris says. He’s kind of a terrible camera man, he’s got no ability to multi-task at _all_ and he’s so easily distracted, but he’s also obedient and had let Zitao talk him into flying out for this conference so he supposes it kind of evens out. “Free swag and everything.” He gestures down at the shirt he’s wearing, some tacky thing given out by one of the American finalists. Zitao gives him a very long look. Sometimes he wonders how they’re even related. After all, today, Zitao had dressed to the nines. His makeup is absolutely flawless, even though he’d had to fend off Kris all morning while he’d monopolized the mirror, and his pants make his legs look a million miles long too. So where is Chanyeol?

He doesn’t run into Chanyeol until later in the day. It turns out their last competition involves trying something new, and that’s how Zitao ends up with Chanyeol right in front of him, shifting uncomfortably and avoiding his eyes. “Tell the camera what we’re doing today, Zitao,” Jongdae says, sounding immeasurably smug.

“Today,” Zitao announces, “today, we are giving Park Chanyeol a makeover.” He grips Chanyeol’s chin and points his face at the camera. “We’re hoping that all of my talent can turn this face into something beautiful.”

Chanyeol furrows his brows. “I’m already a work of art,” he says.

“I wish you luck,” Jongdae says seriously. “I know you have a lot of work to do.”

Zitao glances down. Chanyeol’s skin isn’t even and he’s got circles under his eyes, but in all honesty, he’s a good looking guy. Big eyes, plush mouth - he’s pretty. Oh, Zitao likes pretty. He can work with pretty. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

After watching a few of Chanyeol and Jongdae’s videos, Zitao had expected Chanyeol to fidget, squirming under his touch, but he’s gone remarkably still instead. He closes his eyes patiently when Zitao instructs him to, tips his head obligingly when Zitao turns him to get a better angle, and he’s honestly a better model than even Kris. Not that that earns him any points with Zitao, of course. He’s still a douchebag.

Jongdae keeps up a running commentary as Zitao works at priming Chanyeol’s face for the real work, and it sounds more like something out of a sports show than Zitao’s standard narration. When he describes Zitao spreading gold shadow across Chanyeol’s eyelids as ‘going for gold’, Zitao doesn’t even blame Chanyeol for the way his eyes close and his nose scrunches up as he laughs and whines. Baekhyun wasn’t kidding about the unfortunate thing Chanyeol’s face does when he laughs, though. His one eye squints more than the other and the way his smile stretches across his face with so many teeth, it’s kind of disturbing at this angle. “Jongdae-ssi,” Zitao says. “Stop that. I need him to keep still.”

“Oops,” Jongdae says, not an ounce of contrition in his voice. Zitao supposes he should’ve expected that from a man who drew on his own face with lipstick like a toddler who’d just discovered his mother’s make-up.

Zitao doesn’t spend a long time on Chanyeol’s eyes, because they’re nice enough as is, and they’re not what he wants to play up today. After a quick bit of shadow, mascara and liner, he moves on to Chanyeol’s cheeks, then most importantly - his lips. “How do I look?” Chanyeol asks, batting his newly lengthened eyelashes for the camera. “Do I look pretty?”

Before Jongdae can respond, Zitao clicks his tongue. “You’re getting there,” he says. He pats meticulously at the corner of Chanyeol’s eye. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Well…” Chanyeol begins, and over Jongdae’s shoulder, Zitao can see Kris flashing an enormous thumbs-up. Chanyeol might know Kris from their silly basketball games, but Zitao chooses to take the gesture as praise for himself. “I guess you got this far, right?”

The best part about doing someone else’s makeup is when you do it with no mirrors around. “And it’s not like I would deliberately do a poor job, right?” Zitao smiles down at Chanyeol, broad and false. “That would be poor sportsmanship.”

Chanyeol goes pleasingly still, eyes widening. “He isn’t, is he?” he asks Jongdae desperately, and Jongdae just cackles. Zitao decides that he likes him.

Chanyeol has great lips. They’re full and lush and Zitao can’t help but enjoy the way that they part so obediently under Zitao’s hands. He chooses a bright coral, and it looks dramatic when it goes on, but then he tidies up the edges and gets Chanyeol to blot and Jongdae lets out this low, soft ‘ohhhhhh’, and Zitao knows he’s nailed it.

“Done,” Zitao announces, tapping Chanyeol on the shoulder and pointing him towards the camera. He gently tips his head to the side as well as to the front, so that the viewers get a good look. Chanyeol turns obediently, but he’s jittering on his stool, and Zitao can feel the tension in his body. “I’d say I’ve outdone myself.”

“Wow!” Kris says loudly, clapping. “Nice job!” Kris such an embarrassment, but he’s complimenting him, so Zitao can let this one go.

“You look really, really pretty,” Jongdae says, eyebrows raised. “I did not know that about you.” He tips his head. “You don’t happen to have any skirts in that makeup kit, do you?” Jongdae grins, all sharp teeth. “Why don’t we go all the way?” Under Zitao’s fingers, Chanyeol is blushing in a really very pleasing way, and Zitao takes that and stores it away. He _likes_ this.

“I don’t think we need a skirt.” Of course, Zitao has something _better_ in his bag, but he’s pretty sure that Jongdae doesn’t need to know that. “He looks pretty good all on his own.”

When Zitao holds the mirror in front of Chanyeol, he goes entirely still again. “Oh,” he says. He blinks slowly at himself and gently presses his fingers to his lips, like he can’t quite believe it, and then he glances up at Zitao. For one burning second, all Zitao can think about is how Chanyeol would look even prettier with a cock between those pink lips, and - hmm. That is interesting.

Chanyeol goes even redder and then he turns back to the camera. “I’m finally beautiful,” he says, pushing his lips out in an exaggerated pout. He and Jongdae joke about changing their channel to makeup videos instead of explosions, since Chanyeol is such a natural, and Zitao moves to put away his supplies. As he’s carefully cleaning his brushes, he sees Chanyeol squirm in his seat. Is he - is he _hard_? A shot of heat jolts down Zitao’s spine, and suddenly, he’s got an idea.

He snaps his case shut with a dramatic click and he turns to face the camera. “And they said it couldn’t be done,” he says, resting a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder.

Chanyeol frowns. “Wait, who said it couldn’t be done? I have _always_ been pretty. I mean -”

“Remember to like the video for my appearance,” Zitao continues, barreling through Chanyeol’s protests. “And subscribe to _my_ channel, not theirs. I still hold hope that some of you have taste.” He flutters his fingers at the camera and beams, and Jongdae presses stop.

“Not bad,” Jongdae says. He’s like half a foot smaller than Zitao, but he carries himself like he’s bigger even than Kris. “I can’t believe you played it straight. I would’ve made him look like the clown he was.”

Zitao shrugs a shoulder. “You guys are the experts on being clowns,” he says, and Jongdae grins at him.

“No hard feelings?” Jongdae asks.

He holds out his hand, and Zitao is expecting a handshake, but he’s got a fist out for a fistbump instead. “No,” Zitao says. Jongdae nods his goodbye, packing away his camera before shooting off across the room, calling after a very bored-looking Kyungsoo.

When Zitao turns back to him, Chanyeol is still staring at his reflection. “I wouldn’t have picked this colour,” he tells Zitao.

Kris awkwardly approaches, but Zitao waves him off. His cousin just has the _worst_ timing. “I wouldn’t have picked any other,” Zitao says. He leans in close, his mouth at Chanyeol’s ear. “And it seems like you’re pretty into it too.” He looks very pointedly below Chanyeol’s belt.

“No,” Chanyeol stutters, shaking his head. “No, I’m not - it’s not - whatever!” He waves a hand. “It’s not you, don’t be flattered.” That flush hasn’t left his cheeks.

“No,” Zitao agrees. “It’s you.” He rummages through his case for a second before coming up with an old eyeliner, and then he grabs Chanyeol’s hand. “And if you like my work, maybe you should come to my room. See what else I can do.” He hastily writes his room number down on the back of Chanyeol’s hand and he winks at him.

Chanyeol’s face is this great mix of embarrassment and intrigue. “Yeah, I don’t know,” he says. “I guess, maybe.”

He might as well have said yes. “See you later,” Zitao tells him.

He wants to make an exit, so he sweeps up his makeup case and heads off with Kris at his side, their arms linked. “You winked,” Kris says. “Nice move! Nailed it.”

“Well, now I know it was cheesy,” Zitao says, and Kris laughs.

The rest of the night passes without much interest. The finalists are announced and unfortunately, Zitao doesn’t make the list. Neither do the Slow Mo guys, though, so that definitely softens the blow. And when Kris is out at dinner with a girl he’d met earlier, a comedian with a couple of channels, that’s when Zitao gets a knock on his door.

He knew Chanyeol wouldn’t let him down. “Hi,” Zitao says. He takes him in. Chanyeol’s changed his clothes, but he hadn’t washed off his makeup, and that says quite enough for Zitao. “I thought you might show.”

Chanyeol pushes past him into the room. “Whatever,” he says. “Jongdae said he had plans or something, so I was bored.” Zitao rolls his eyes and closes the door.

Chanyeol’s lipstick has faded through the day from use, and Zitao steps up towards him, swiping a finger over his bottom lip. “I bet I can make it interesting,” he says. Chanyeol snorts, but he leans into the touch, eyes half-lidded. “Let me touch that up for you.”

While he doesn’t balk at the lipstick, it seems that the panties are something new. “I don’t know if -” Chanyeol starts, but his throat works and he seems fixated at the scrap of pink fabric in Zitao’s hand. It’s not a usual thing for Zitao, something he does on a whim, but it seems like this is one that has definitely paid off. “I’ve never - um.”

He doesn’t take them, though. Zitao’s lips tighten. “I thought you wanted to have a little fun,” he grouses, curling his fingers over the underwear. “Never mind.”

Chanyeol snatches them away. “Whatever,” he says, all false bravado. “It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve done in sex.” He stands, and Zitao can’t figure out why until he sees Chanyeol inching towards the door. He doesn’t want Zitao to see him change. That’s _adorable_.

Zitao blinks up at him innocently. “Is that what this is?” he asks. Chanyeol scowls.

By the time he’s out of the bathroom, Zitao has shed all his clothing. It’s gratifying, the way that Chanyeol stops in the doorway, clothes clutched in his hands and eyebrows raised. “Whoa,” he says, and Zitao preens.

Chanyeol’s pause gives Zitao a chance to take him in, though. He’s not all that big, but he’s lean, defined muscles in his arms and legs and a flat belly. It makes a pleasing contrast between his body and the pink of his panties, the brightness of his lipstick. “Put down those clothes,” Zitao demands, holding out a hand. “Less staring, more touching.”

“Bossy,” Chanyeol grumbles, but the thing is, Zitao can see his half-hard and fairly impressive cock in the underwear and the flush across his chest. Chanyeol likes it, he _likes_ it.

“On your knees,” Zitao says. Chanyeol’s eyes flash, but he drops, fast enough that his kneecaps thud against the thin carpet. He’s eyeing Zitao’s cock with both wariness and a kind of hungry greed that Zitao thinks is a very good sign. “Well?” Zitao asks.

Chanyeol glares up at him for a second, sullen, and then he curls his fingers around the base of Zitao’s cock and swallows him down. Zitao was right, his mouth was _made_ for this. And Chanyeol’s no amateur, either - he takes Zitao’s soft cock as a challenge. He twists his wrist in tandem with the bobs of his head, working his tongue against the underside of Zitao’s cock, until Zitao is gasping and jerking up into his hold.

It’s not long at all before Zitao’s hard, not with the way Chanyeol picks up all of his weaknesses. Zitao doesn’t want to give him anything, he doesn’t want to give him the advantage, but the way Chanyeol flicks his tongue at the underside of the head of his cock makes him whimper. He’s leaving streaks of coral lipstick behind, bright against Zitao’s skin, and Zitao swallows, reaching out. “You look even better like this,” he says softly, using his thumb to smear his lipstick across his chin. “So pretty.”

Chanyeol’s eyes slide shut. He moans, just this soft little noise that Zitao can feel, and Zitao grins. “But you knew that, didn’t you?” He grips a handful of Chanyeol’s hair, guiding him down with a little more force this time. He likes the darkness of Chanyeol’s eyes when he looks up at him, half annoyance, half arousal, and he pushes down harder. It delights him when Chanyeol just takes it, Zitao’s cock sliding further into the wet heat of his mouth. “I knew you’d be so good at this.”

One hand resting on Zitao’s hip, Chanyeol pulls off. His lips are slick with saliva and precome and his eyes are half-lidded. “Of course I am,” he says, but when Zitao looks down to find his other hand pushed down the front of the panties, curled around his cock and jerking swiftly, Zitao can only be pleased.

“Show me,” he says imperiously, and Chanyeol narrows his eyes, sucking Zitao’s cock into his mouth again.

It hasn’t been _that_ long since Zitao last hooked up with someone, but he’s already pretty close to the edge. If this is a challenge, though, he’s not the one that’s going to lose. Chanyeol is flushed pink, lipstick smeared around the stretched rim of his lips and sweat beading at his hairline. He swallows Zitao’s cock down with enthusiasm, like he’s trying to win a bet, and, well, Zitao just wants to help him along. He curves a hand around the back of Chanyeol’s head again and pushes him down. He picks up the pace until Chanyeol just relaxes, going pliant in Zitao’s hands and letting him use his mouth as he pleases. He’s good at this too, trying to relax his throat even as tears pool in his eyes and fall down his cheeks, leaving behind trails of black. He looks debauched, a mess, and absolutely amazing.

“Are you gonna come just from my cock in your mouth?” Zitao asks. His voice wavers with each thrust, with the toe-curling thrill of the tears leaking out of Chanyeol’s eyes and the frantic jerk of his hand in his panties. “Just like this?” Zitao jerks at Chanyeol’s hair, too hard to be pleasurable, “Such a pretty mess.”

He _does_ , and that’s the best part. Chanyeol sobs around Zitao’s dick and he curls in on himself, hand stilling between his legs as he spills over his fingers. Those panties are a write-off, that much is certain, but Zitao has to admit that this was worth it.

It’s only a few minutes until Zitao follows him. His thrusts speed up until he finally just holds Chanyeol down, his nose pressed against Zitao’s skin as he swallows around him, and Zitao comes hard down his throat. When Zitao lets go and Chanyeol straightens, he looks dazed and glassy-eyed. “How’d I do?” Chanyeol asks, and his voice has this nice hoarse edge to it now that pleases Zitao.

Zitao shrugs a shoulder, feigning nonchalance like he’s not out of breath and completely disheveled. “A solid six,” he says.

Chanyeol frowns at him, and he brings up his hand, the one he’d had in his panties. Come slides off his fingers and Zitao yelps, scrambling backwards out of his reach. Chanyeol grins, too wide, too much teeth, and lunges forward again. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“Get that away from me,” Zitao tells him, his voice uncomfortably shrill.

Chanyeol cackles and settles back on his heels, licking his own come off his fingers, because he’s that kind of guy. “Sorry,” he says, completely unapologetic. Zitao glowers.

Chanyeol talks his way into Zitao’s shower, and Zitao thinks that maybe he’s angling for a handjob if he’s real lucky, but it never pans out. Instead he whines about the mascara in his eyes and kisses Zitao, deep and insistent, until all of his makeup has been washed away and the water is running cold. Zitao lets him, because his mouth is so nice and he likes the attention.

“Take these,” Zitao insists later, when they’re putting their clothes back on, throwing the dirty panties in Chanyeol’s freshly washed face. Chanyeol squawks and bats them away, letting them fall to the ground. “The last time Kris was faced with my sex life I think he had a hernia.” Chanyeol laughs, and Zitao waves a finger at the underwear. “I’m serious! Pick them up.”

With an exaggerated, dramatic flare, Chanyeol scoops them up again. “I’ll keep them as a trophy,” he promises, swinging them on one finger. He really is, like, seventeen inside. Chanyeol leers at him. “To remind me.”

Zitao sends him out the door with a pat on the ass. “You won’t need help remembering me,” he promises him, and he winks again and shuts the door in Chanyeol’s face.

Zitao may not have won, but tonight turned out pretty well anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[ Fluorescent Lightbulbs SMASH - The Slow Mo Guys ]**

Chanyeol frowns at his computer screen. He’s been at this for a couple of hours, and it really shouldn’t be taking this long. It’s his turn to edit their next video, and it’s just a couple of minutes’ worth of Jongdae fucking around with a bunch of really long fluorescent lightbulbs, but Chanyeol can’t focus to save his life.

It’s been three weeks since he last saw Zitao. That probably shouldn’t be relevant, but when Chanyeol keeps clicking over to a Youtube tab instead of his video editing software to watch Zitao smile at the camera and talk about his favourite brushes, Chanyeol’s got to admit that maybe it’s a tiny factor. Teeny tiny. Itty bitty.

Zitao had been right. He hadn’t needed anything to remember him by. Chanyeol pretty much has the memory of that whole night seared onto the back of his eyelids. Before the conference, Chanyeol had watched a handful of Zitao’s videos, listened to his surprisingly sweet voice as he narrated his actions, but the last thing he would’ve expected was to end up on his knees in front of him at the end of the night.

He isn’t what Chanyeol had thought he would be. He’s _tall_ , for one, and part of the reason he fills out those clothes he loves so much so nicely is because he’s been practicing wushu since he was practically a toddler. Chanyeol swallows when he watches Zitao wink for the camera, deliberately flirtatious, and he remembers Zitao’s hand in his hair and the way he’d looked down at him. That’s not something you forget.

He’d managed to wiggle Zitao’s number out of Kris a few days after the conference, but Zitao texted him first. That alone sent a thrill down Chanyeol’s spine, knowing that maybe he wasn’t the only one who wanted a repeat performance. And repeat it they have, like all over Zitao’s apartment. Zitao doesn’t hesitate to put Chanyeol exactly where he wants him, and by the time Chanyeol leaves, he’s always aching in a really good way.

He’d like to pretend like he’s all casual about it, because whatever, right? He’s just some guy who knows more about lipgloss than like, ninety percent of the girls Chanyeol has dated. Except when Zitao texts to tell him that he’s got a couple of hours to kill, Chanyeol’s whole schedule magically opens up just so he can be there.

That’s probably a little bit clingy. His roommate agrees, with a lot of wiggling eyebrows every time Chanyeol shoots out the door and calls that he’ll be back for dinner, probably maybe! That’s pretty unfair, though, because it’s not like Minseok can talk. He’s fairly certain that Minseok’s boyfriend would literally live on his dick if that was feasible.

Jongdae agrees too. His phone rattles on his desk next to him, and Chanyeol sighs. _i don’t see an upload, what the fuck is up?_. it’s quickly followed by another. _quit jerking off to zt’s fluttery eyelashes and get this shit done, you promised you’d do it_.

Chanyeol scowls. _im not jerking off!!!!!!_ Slander. And it’s got nothing to do with the fact that he jerked off like an hour ago and okay, maybe he’d pressed his hands against the bruises Zitao had left against his hips and come so hard he nearly passed out in the heat of the of the shower stall. _why cant u have like a little faith in me?_

_years of experience. hands off your dick and back on the mouse_

On the computer screen, Zitao flutters his eyelashes to show off their length, and he smiles. Chanyeol likes his smile, which is probably a bad sign. He just looks so nice when he smiles, all sharp and smug, like Chanyeol has pleased him just like he knew he would.

This is bad.

_seriously, chanyeol, you’re gonna chafe your dick. finish the video then you can jerk off_

Chanyeol narrows his eyes at his phone. _dude that is rly weird dont tell me when i can touch my dick_.

_i wouldn’t have to if i couldn’t hear his whiny voice in my dreams. get editing_

Absolute bullshit, but the video is running to an end. He watches Zitao wave at the camera and then he lays his head down on the desk. He can’t believe he’s stuck on a guy who would drop like 45,000 won on lip gloss. He’s still got the panties, stuffed at the bottom of his sock drawer. Clean, though, he’d washed them, because that’s kind of gross, but still, they’re there.

He might be in trouble.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[ How to Take Your Look from Day to Night ]**

“You look nice tonight, Baekhyun,” Yixing says. Zitao rolls his eyes as Baekhyun preens, turning around obligingly so that Yixing can get a good look. It might be Yixing’s birthday, but that doesn’t mean that Baekhyun hasn’t taken it upon himself to dress up. Luckily, Yixing is pretty unflappable. He turns to Zitao and smiles. “Nice work.”

Baekhyun slaps his arm. “Thanks a lot,” he says. “Can’t you just appreciate all of this?” Yixing pats his elbow indulgently and firmly ignores him.

“Happy birthday,” Zitao tells Yixing, pulling him into a hug. The apartment is packed with people - partly because Baekhyun’s parties are kind of legendary in that infamous way, but partly because Zitao is fairly certain there isn’t a person on the planet who doesn’t like Yixing. “You’re getting old now.”

“Positively ancient,” Yixing says, raising his eyebrows. He pinches Zitao’s ribs. “Get off my lawn.”

“We don’t have a lawn,” Baekhyun reminds him. “Have you seen Kris?” He peers around the crowded room like he’s searching for treasure, which makes no sense, since Kris is bigger than ninety percent of the people in the room and really would not be hard to find.

Zitao grabs Baekhyun by the shoulder and spins him around again. “Stop, hyung,” he says. “Leave him alone. He’s got a date tonight.” Apparently, he and that comedian from the competition had really hit it off, and he and Amber had been spending a lot of time together lately. This is the first time that she’s meeting his friends, though, and Zitao really doesn’t want to scare her off. Kris has been doing that thing where he gets glowy and dreamy-eyed whenever he talks about her.

“I know,” Baekhyun says, shaking Zitao off. “I want to meet her.”

Ugh. Zitao did not come here to play interference with Baekhyun. “Hey, did you see Joonmyun check you out when you walked over?” he asks. It’s a lie, but that’s okay. Joonmyun does appreciate a good ass.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes. “This is a ploy,” he says, “but I’m intrigued, so I’m going to let it slide, just this once.” He heads off through the crush of people to hunt Joonmyun down.

Of _course_ , Zitao had come here first and foremost for Yixing’s birthday. Yixing has been his friend for years, and Zitao would want to be there for him and celebrate his birthday. But he might’ve heard that Chanyeol was going to be here too, and that may have provided a little motivation. They run in the same circles, and this kind of thing was inevitable, but it’s still kind of strange to see Chanyeol here. Since the competition, he’s only really seen Chanyeol on his terms, when he invites him to his place and bends him over every available surface. This is just a little different.

Chanyeol is camped out on the couch, with a girl Zitao was introduced to once, Jinri, and Jongdae and Kyungsoo. Ever since Kyungsoo won the Youtube competition, Jongdae has been glued to his side, utterly immune to Kyungsoo’s disdain. It’s kind of impressive, really.

But Zitao’s focus is on Chanyeol. He’s a hand-talker when he’s drunk, it seems, laughing with his whole body at whatever joke Jinri is telling. It can’t be _that_ funny, and yet there Chanyeol is, sloshing beer over his knuckles as he leans in close and smiles at her. Zitao sniffs.

“Hmm.” Zitao turns away to see Yixing looking at him thoughtfully. “You know Chanyeol?”

“Biblically,” Jia says. “Happy birthday, baby.” She hooks an arm around Yixing’s shoulders and squeezes affectionately. Feifei is a step behind her, and she quirks an eyebrow at Zitao knowingly before she gives Yixing a hug of her own.

“Ooh, intriguing,” Yixing says. “Biblically?”

Zitao rolls his eyes. Of course the story has already made the rounds. “It’s nothing, seriously,” he says. He shrugs. It _isn’t_ anything. He just likes how Chanyeol looks on his knees.

“Cute,” Feifei says, and she reaches out to pinch his cheek. “I thought you didn’t keep your hookups around?” She glances over at the Jung twins.

Zitao colours when Soryong waves hesitantly. “Chanyeol gives really great head,” he snaps. She’s got a point though. Zitao bores easily and he doesn’t let any hookup drag on on. What good is a fuck when it gets boring? But Chanyeol - it’s just different. “Can you blame me?”

“Oh, sure,” Yixing says, but Jia and Feifei are exchanging a meaningful look and Zitao has decided that he is quite over this conversation right now.

“Practice safe sex!” Jia calls after him, sliding her arms around Feifei’s waist, and Zitao flips them off. Maybe he should start hanging out with Kris, since _he’s_ not awful.

He flops down on the couch next to Chanyeol, which doesn’t ultimately help all that much. Chanyeol doesn’t even look at him, too busy with his hand on Jinri’s knee. He’s leaning in close, and his voice has dropped an octave like it does when he’s trying to be sexy, and Zitao bristles. “Long time no see,” he says, like he didn’t just see Chanyeol two days ago. He wonders if he lifted Chanyeol’s shirt right now, would he still have the marks on his skin?

Chanyeol straightens. He frowns, his eyes searching Zitao’s face. “Uh, hey, Zitao, what’s up?” On his other side, Jinri eyes them both warily, gaze traveling from Chanyeol to Zitao and back again.

“Just thought I’d come and say hello,” he says, and it comes out almost like a growl. He lets his hand drop too high on Chanyeol’s thigh.

Jinri laughs a little, and then she shifts out of Chanyeol’s reach. “I’m going to go get a drink,” she says gently, and then she’s gone. Good.

Chanyeol isn’t so pleased, though. “What the hell,” Chanyeol says, shoving Zitao’s hand away. “I was totally getting somewhere, thanks a _lot_.” It hits Zitao with a start, that he can read Chanyeol’s face right now, the irritation and something else, something guarded and hopeful. It’s strange.

“Does it matter?” Zitao asks. “You were going to get laid tonight anyway.” He’s got absolutely nothing against Jinri, but that doesn’t stop him from glancing in her direction and sniffing a little.

“ _Oh_.” Chanyeol’s eyes get big and suddenly smug. “You were _jealous_.”

“No,” Zitao says immediately. He is not blushing, absolutely not. “Why would I be jealous?” It’s not like they’re anything, obviously. They just sleep together sometimes, and Zitao has absolutely no claim to him. Still, as much as he denies it, Chanyeol’s hand on Jinri’s knee had set off something hot simmering under his skin.

“Sure,” Chanyeol says, and before Zitao has a chance to get annoyed because yet another person tonight is refusing to believe him, he leans in to kiss him. Any argument Zitao might have had dies in his throat when Chanyeol curls one big hand around his neck and coaxes Zitao’s lips apart with his own. “Want to make good on that promise?”

It takes Zitao a second to process it. “Oh, oh, yes, please,” he purrs, and then he grabs Chanyeol’s hand and pulls him to his feet.

They end up in Baekhyun’s room, because it’s Yixing’s birthday, and Zitao actually likes Yixing enough not to soil his bed. Chanyeol is always pretty quick to shed his clothes these days. “Should I be worried whose bed this is?” Chanyeol asks, pulling his shirt over his head.

The bruises _are_ still there. A smirk spreads across Zitao’s faces as he climbs into Chanyeol’s lap. “No,” he says, sliding forward so his knees bracket Chanyeol’s ribs, and squeezing. “Stop talking.” He says it lazily, one hand pulling Chanyeol’s head back so that he can kiss him. He’s always liked kissing Chanyeol, his mouth is so lush and sweet and Chanyeol kisses him like he needs it to breathe. Chanyeol’s hands clutch at Zitao’s hips, and he doesn’t pull away until Zitao does, already flushed and out of breath.

“So pretty,” Zitao teases, and Chanyeol digs his thumbs into Zitao’s sides and colours. “I like it when I’ve got you like this.” He hasn’t had enough to really be drunk, but it’s loosened his tongue just a little.

“Like what?” Chanyeol asks, frowning. He strokes his hands down Zitao’s back and rolls his hips up insistently.

Zitao reaches down between them with one hand to unbuckle his pants. “Flushed,” Zitao says, considering his words. “Open.” He leans down to close his teeth on the soft spot below Chanyeol’s ear, feeling him buck up under him. “Mine.”

There is a split second where Zitao hesitates, wonders if he’s gone too far, but he can feel the hitch in Chanyeol’s breath, the way he jerks in his pants. “Yeah, okay,” Chanyeol says, and drops his hands to Zitao’s belt, wrestling it open.

There’s something intimate about the way they fuck, Chanyeol’s legs around Zitao’s waist and his arms around his shoulders. Zitao hadn’t known Chanyeol liked it like this, but he definitely does, his forehead pressed against Zitao’s chest and his voice hitching with each of Zitao’s thrusts. He can feel Chanyeol’s cock jerk in his hand when he leans down to press his mouth to Chanyeol’s shoulder, and he jerks him off slowly, matching the deliberate pace of his hips.

Chanyeol comes first, but he always does, shuddering beneath Zitao as he rides it out and then going pliant and easy beneath Zitao’s hands. It only takes a few seconds more for Zitao to follow, face buried in the crook of Chanyeol’s neck as he shouts.

Zitao pulls out and slides the condom off, tying it messily and tossing it in Baekhyun’s wastebin. Chanyeol grimaces, but he keeps a hand on Zitao’s hip when he rolls to the side and pushes his face into a pillow. That...was something. Zitao feels exhausted and boneless, and he decides to use that as the excuse for why he reaches back blindly for Chanyeol’s hand. Chanyeol laces their sweaty fingers together, and Zitao turns his head. They stare at each other for a second. He doesn’t know what to say, and he doesn’t think Chanyeol really does either, which is unusual.

He feels unsteady, uncertain. This arrangement is tottering on the edge of something, and leaning dangerously close to a place Zitao never even considered it could go, and it’s strange. Zitao hates not knowing what to say, or do. Uncertainty makes him shrink. Chanyeol squeezes his hand.

They’re spared the awkwardness of a conversation, though, when someone hammers on the door. “Huang Zitao,” Baekhyun shrieks. He’s always shrillest when he’s most enraged. “What are you doing in _my_ bed?”

Chanyeol raises his eyebrows and then grins, deliberately reaching for one of Baekhyun’s pillows and using it to wipe the come off his belly. “Debauched things,” Zitao calls. “Oops?” Chanyeol throws back his head and laughs, and the moment passes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[ The Slow Mo Guys Present: A Very Special Video ]**

Chanyeol has never been so scared in his life, and that includes the day that Jongdae kicked the trayful of lit gasoline and nearly caught his cat on fire. “This is a stupid idea, isn’t it?” he says, rubbing his sweaty palms on his labcoat. He’s not wearing much under it, just his boxer briefs, which was probably not his brightest move, considering that fall is moving in and it’s getting kinda breezy.

“Yes,” Jongdae says blithely from behind the camera. He sticks his head up. “But most of your ideas are pretty awful, so it’s kind of par for the course, you know?”

There’s a table set up in front of Chanyeol, with several buckets of paint in a neat row. Each one is a different, bright colour. Chanyeol carefully drops a firework into each one. “Thanks, I guess,” he says, frowning at Jongdae. “Your faith in me is appreciated.”

Jongdae flashes him a thumbs up. “Any time,” he says cheerfully.

It’s a bold move, but Chanyeol has been stuck on it since it hit him, a few weeks ago. Since the party, almost. Since then - it’d changed, kind of. Zitao was softer, and instead of kicking Chanyeol out as soon as they were done, he let him stay. The first night Chanyeol had woken up in Zitao’s bed, he’d been so disoriented he rolled off and took the blankets with him. When he’d groaned, Zitao had just laughed at him sleepily and thrown a pillow on his face.

He’s getting too used to it. He likes how Zitao looks first thing in the morning, bare-faced and grumpy, and how he’s never really learned how to make real meals like an adult. He’s a bedhog and he’s always disdainful of everything Chanyeol wears and Chanyeol has never found anything so charming. So he’s decided he’s gonna do it. He’s gonna go for it. And he’s gonna do it in what is probably the dumbest way ever. He is mostly naked, after all.

“This is stupid,” Chanyeol says again, and Jongdae groans.

“No,” he says, and he points a finger at Chanyeol. “No. I had to spend twenty minutes painting your skinny, bare chest, and I don’t ever want to be that up close and personal with you ever again.” He glares. “Don’t make my hard work go to waste.”

Jongdae has a point. He hadn’t been able to write the words properly himself, even in a mirror, so he’d had to get Jongdae’s help. He’s a good friend, sort of. “Alright,” Chanyeol says. He jumps up and down, shaking his arms to loosen them like an athlete. “Yeah. Okay. I can do this.”

“Yes, yes you can,” Jongdae says. He turns on their cameras and gives Chanyeol a nod and an encouraging smile. “Do it for love,” he croons.

Chanyeol grins. “Hey guys,” he says. “This one goes out to someone who’s pretty special. You know who you are.” He winks broadly.

“Really?” Jongdae groans, and he shakes his head. “God, you _suck_.”

Chanyeol ignores him. “Here goes,” he says. He spreads his arms. “Enjoy the show.”

It only takes him a few seconds to light all of the bangers and step back, throwing his labcoat off his shoulders and then leaping it into the air. He’s had a lot of experience with this kind of firework, and he times it well. The paint splatters across his chest, and he gets more than a little bit of plastic shrapnel from the soft little buckets it’d been held in, but it doesn’t obscure the words written there. _Date me, Huang Zitao?_

By the time he lands again, he’s covered in paint, and he’s exhilarated. “What do you say?” he asks breathlessly, staring at the camera. “Are you game?”

Behind the camera, Jongdae presses stop and laughs. “Beautiful,” he calls. “You look like a modern art project gone wrong. He’ll never be able to resist you.”

Chanyeol’s heart hammers in his chest. “I hope so,” he says, wiping at a streak of bright blue dripping down over Zitao’s name. “I really hope so.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[ How To Look Hot While Dating an Idiot ]**

It takes Zitao three tries to record his intro, because Chanyeol keeps distracting him, his hands wandering up underneath Zitao’s shirt as he noses at his ear. “Hi, guys,” Zitao laughs, and Chanyeol lunges forward to kiss his cheek. He can feel Chanyeol’s grin against his jaw, and Zitao thinks his heart could burst.

He’s _definitely_ not helping Chanyeol and Jongdae out with their videos, though. No way.


End file.
